Invisible
by rainydaydreams
Summary: In which there is a crash and choice, but not really. :: AU. Annabeth-Drew-OC. Multichap.
1. Prologue

**Words Like Water, Challenge Entry: AU Island**

**Yes. I'm doing the deserted island thing. Leave me alone! I'm just a sad lonely person who enjoys stranding people on islands! I'm a victim of society, I tell you!**

**Anyways, this is post-Last Olympian, pre-Lost Hero.**

**Disclaimer: ...I own not, much to my ever-loving chagrin.**

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><p>Prologue<p>

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><p>Our story starts with a plane crash.<p>

Don't worry, it's nothing serious. Not even a death count (except for the pilot, who is not particularly important). It is the sort of crash that is emblazoned on newspapers and magazines: "The Day We Crashed And Came Back To Tell The Tale", "How I Got So Skinny On A Deserted Island", "When We Crashed, Survived And Got Killer Tans". That type of thing. Miracle stories, they give hope to Americans everywhere, and represent a beacon of light in a dark, obese world. What makes this crash out of the ordinary, you ask?

For one thing, it was a private jet. The finest of its kind, actually. But why were there three female passengers on board, none of whom were related in any way to the owner, with not even an illicit, underage romance, to connect them? And why did the plane, bound for San Francisco, suddenly veer off over the Atlantic Ocean? Why was it headed towards San Francisco in the first place?

The answers to these questions and more will be revealed later on, but for now, let's focus on our three miraculous young passengers.

With their own stories and dreams to tell, these young girls could not be more different. Yet despite their differences, they will tell you a story of courage, of hope, and of the best tans they have ever gotten.

We will start with Annabeth. She will serve as your eyes and ears. Don't worry - she's very perceptive, a great story teller.

The others will come soon after. They are simply biding their time, deciding the best words with which to convey their story. What you must watch out for is what they doesn't say as much as what they do. Read between the lines, for the spaces in between may serve just as important as the words.

But let's start, why don't we?

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><p><strong>Ah, the omniscient narrator. Don't you love that guy?<strong>

**Review & rate.**


	2. Chapter 1

**It's been a while, eh? You should review.**

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><p>Chapter One<p>

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><p>-Annabeth-<p>

/

You are wishing you chose to order the blueberry muffin after all.

(Of course, later you'll wish you'd chosen not to set foot in the shop in the first place.)

You are sitting in a coffee shop at the airport, you and your two travel companions. You're wondering how you got stuck with what have to be the two worst choices for a journey, _ever_. How did you get stuck with not just one daughter of Aphrodite, but _two_? And if the 12 luggage cases between the two of them are anything to go by, you got stuck with the most uptight.

Right now, though, you are fiddling with a napkin, quietly starving as you watch Naomi flirt shamelessly with the greasy rich man sitting at the table beside them. And you are getting incredibly impatient. How long can it take to talk about how you struck it rich through some questionable business investments and have now purchased a new yacht and Jacuzzi and private jet?

…Wait, private jet?

You are practically drooling. The thought of not having to wait for hours in the crowded airport that would be spent listening to Drew and Naomi flirt with every guy within sight seems like Elysium to you. And it seems like Naomi feels the same way:

"Oh my gods, you have your own jet? That is sooo cool!"

"Yeah, it is. You should see it, it has luxury everything - the seats, the view, everything." You think that should be obvious. Of course a plane would have a great view. Like Naomi or Drew would say, _duh_.

"Wow, yes! I'd love to see it! Oh my gods, you are sooo nice. And my friends can come too, right?"

"I - what?"

"Oh please, I can't just leave them! And you said you'd take us!"

"I - wait, I mean - no, what I said was -"

You are not a bit surprised when you are loading your bags into the jet less than half an hour later, but as you all settle into the plush seats, you can't help teasing Naomi.

"Gods, you're such a slut."

"I know, right?" That was the best thing about Naomi. She knew she was a slut. She didn't pretend she was a braniac or wholesome or chaste. She just accepted who she was, and didn't care what anyone thought.

"Seriously, though. Are you sure you didn't charmspeak? You got that guy to give you his private jet."

"Borrow. That's all I did. Besides, I don't have charmspeak. I'm just very… persuasive." She says this in that sultry, seductive voice that works so well to get her what she wants. On the other side of the aisle, Drew snorts from behind her magazine.

"Very good at sticking your boobs into people's faces, you mean."

"No, I mean persuasive."

Another snort. "No, _I'm_ persuasive. You're just slutty."

An eye roll. "_Puh_-_lease_. Bet you couldn't have gotten us the jet."

"Babe, I could've gotten us that rocket NASA's been working on."

"Uh-huh. Keep dreaming."

If you hadn't known they were best friends, you would've thought they hated each other. That's what you had thought, but now you know better.

They sit in silence for a while, punctuated only by the occasional snort accompanied by a derisive comment from Drew about whatever she's reading in her magazine ("Bitch, what a lie. You know you did lipo.") or a muffled cuss from Naomi as she does her nails and gets some Ballerina Pink on her skirt. You are staring out the window, thinking about what you should do about the statue issues in Olympus. You want a central courtyard in the palace with all of the Olympians, but you can't find a way to fit the statues _and_ the fountain in it. Maybe you should downsize? Have a pond instead?

As you're thinking, you notice glimpses of dark blue water underneath the clouds. That doesn't make sense. You should be flying over America, right? No water, then. Maybe it's a lake? No, it wouldn't be so big. Were they taking a detour? No, the pilot would've said something. Right?

You are suddenly panicking. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. But just as you stand up to go to the cockpit, the jet pitches forward and everything goes pitch-black. You hold on to the back of your seat to keep yourself from falling forward. In the dark, you hear Drew shout, "Oh my gods, what's happening?" Over the suddenly shrill wind, Naomi is swearing. Despite your panic, your are fascinated by the way Naomi swears, like an artist layering a canvas with paint. Her swearing is almost an art form.

You shake her head to focus yourself. Holding onto arm rests and seat backs and Naomi's hair, you get herself to the front of the plane. Trying desperately to keep your balance, you pull open the door to the cockpit.

You are blinded by the sudden light. In the windows, all you can see is the ground rushing up towards them, fasterfasterfaster. It's all green and brown and blue and blurry and impossibly clear and coming too close to them, too fast. Grudgingly, you admit that you do have a pretty good view after all. Against the light, the pilot is a silhouette, but when he turns towards you, you can see the panic in his eyes. You nod at him. He nods back.

And as the ground rises up to swallow you whole, you're thinking, oh. My. Gods.


	3. Chapter 2

**Ermph, looked back at my (handwritten) notes for this story. I still can't figure out what that word is… That's a _w_, for sure. But is that an _i_ or and _l_? Oh well, I bet it's not _that_ important.**

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

* * *

><p>-Annabeth-<p>

/

You wake up with a _major_ headache and soot in your mouth.

You do not like waking up this way. In fact, you plan to never wake up like this again. Actually, you do not plan to wake up at all. Your head is aching, and your mouth tastes gross, and _oh my gods_. You were in a plane crash.

A plane crash.

You.

In a plane crash.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, but it doesn't make it any more real. So you lie there, on your back, soot in your mouth, head pounding, eyes closed, whispering to yourself. A plane crash. A plane crash. A plane crash. Dear gods, please be dreaming. Please wake up in your bunk at Camp Half-Blood, book on your face from when you fell asleep while reading and everything is totally normal. Or at least as normal as it gets, being a demigod. Pleasepleaseplease.

But when you open her eyes, you see a sky so blue, it can't possibly be real. And a plume of smoke in the corner of your eye.

And you know that it's real.

Groaning and aching all over, you pull yourself up, because you're _Annabeth_ _Chase_ and you are not going to lie here in denial when you could be helping yourself. And Drew. And Naomi.

Oh my gods, Drew and Naomi.

You look around wildly, taking in your surroundings of lush green forest, azure blue water lapping at a golden brown beach but none of it matters because Naomi and Drew aren't here. Where are they? What happened? You're hyperventilating, panicking, because you're in this alone, and they're dead and… there they are. Naomi, pulling Drew out of the plane wreckage and spitting hair extensions out of her mouth, gorgeous against the backdrop of tropical island. And you've never seen anything more beautiful than these two girls, survivors, just like her. You breathe out, realizing that at some point, you'd started to hold your breath. (Which is a good thing, you decide, because the air is thick with smoke, and it's starting to choke you.)

"Over here. Come on." You're almost dizzy with relief.

While plotting your trajectory from the cockpit to the stretch of sand you landed on, you guide the girls away from the smouldering wreckage. The pilot had no chance of survival, not belted into his seat the way he was. The irony is not lost on you. You make your way to the beach, where the air is cleaner, and throw yourselves on the sand. Not bothering to open her eyes, Drew says, "I am never, ever, going on a plane again. Never." With a raspy laugh, Naomi corrects her. "Jet. Not plane. Jet." And it hits you all at the same time: "We just totalled that guy's jet." With an impossibly blue sky above of them, clear but for the smoke from the crash, you start to laugh. And when you start, you can't stop.

/

Eventually, you calm down enough to try to figure something out.

"Iris message?"

You try, but you can't get a rainbow. And when you do make a faint one using Naomi's bracelet, it doesn't go through. A cool voice tells them that they are out of range. Drew thinks that they should stay put, and make a fire, like in _Lord of the Flies_. Naomi shoots this down, citing the boar-killing and ugly shorts. Naomi does not like ugly shorts. You are privately marvelling that the two Aphrodite girls would even know of that book, let alone the plot or clothes. While the two are arguing over the merits of short shorts and whether they are skanky or not, you look around, analyzing the island that you have landed on.

"Duh, they're totally skanky. It's like, come on, wear a skirt."

Picturesque beach, turquoise water lapping at their toes, sea shells shining in the sun.

"No, it's called having legs and showing them off. What's wrong with that? Besides, they're more comfortable than skirts."

Tropical forest behind them, leafy green foliage, looking like a postcard that fired its gardener. Overgrown, but still beautiful.

"Uh, no. It's called slutty. And wearing them with Uggs? Gross."

It's perfect, almost. With a trimming here and there, it would be like walking into an exotic getaway magazine ad. It's pulling at you, deep green and mysterious, and you want to go to it. So why does you feel like there is something terribly wrong with the place?

"True."

You decide that you've spent long enough lying in the sun and recovering from your traumatic experience. Also, you are tired of the short shorts discussion. You want to go into the forest. It's pulling you in, and you're too dazed to fight it. So you say, "We have to explore."

The girls, being smarter than they let on, refuse. But you can be persuasive when you want, and you want to go into the forest. So, in the end, Drew and Naomi find themselves following you into the forest, picturesque, overgrown but beautiful, and totally menacing and creepy.

At first, it's slow going, as you stumble over exposed roots and are dripped on by water from the canopy of leaves. The light is slowly blocked out, save a few rays here and there. The trees seem to glow from within, a phosphorescent green light that the girls use as guidance. It's beautiful, yes, but you feel that there is something wrong with it. It takes a while for you to realize, but when you do, you can't escape it.

There's no sound.

Other than the breathing of the girls, the rainforest is totally silent, now that they are farther away from the steady lapping of the waves. It presses in on you, and you realize how loud silence can be. Drew starts to sing a song, something about never ever listening to Annabeth Chase and the next time she is stuck on an island, she's staying right on the beach. It comforts you, the noise in the vast quiet of the forest. You know that you've made a huge mistake, but you can't help yourself. You have to keep going, deeper and deeper into this uncannily silent forest, no movement but the wind you stir up, no sound but Drew's nervous voice, no true light but the occasional ray illuminating green here, more green there.

You are thinking about how sick and tired she's getting of green, when you smell something other than the earthy scent of the forest. You've smelt it only once, during what was one of the best moments of your life, but you'll never, ever forget it. Heady and intoxicating and utterly unforgettable, but it can't possibly be that smell. No, you're just smelling it wrong. It's a fabrication of memory. No, no, no.

Yes.

There's no way.

None.

But it is.

It can't be.

It's not.

It is.

It's -

_moonlace_.


	4. Chapter 3

**No, it has not been more than two months. I don't believe you. It's just a blip in time. LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.**

**Okay. I'll admit it. The music has been sounding dire for a while now, and XxTheAngstyOnesxX kind of just blasted it in my ears. But yanno. You should review. *nods eagerly while fingering gun***

**Warning: Shit gets supernatural here on out.**

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

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><p>-Drew-<p>

/

You really hate islands.

They don't look anything like the ones on postcards and in magazine ads and movies. And they have bugs and trees and slime and roots and _mud_.

Mud that reminds you of miserable hours spent standing in the rain, pretending to play soccer. Your hair is plastered to your face and your jeans are ripped for real and you're miserable. But you're too tired to protest, really, so you keep following Annabeth. You nearly trip and die over exposed roots many times, and between swatting at the flies and trying to fill the eerie silence of the rainforest, you're not having the best day. You probably look like a mess and you _hate_ islands.

But you're finally getting your stride, belting out your song at the top of your lungs, when Annabeth stops in her tracks. You walk into her and end up in a heap in a mud puddle. Naomi trips over you and starts swearing. Annabeth ignores both of you, gliding towards a weird, glowing plant. It smells like vanilla and mascara and memories, but you've never been the type to appreciate the beauty of nature and you instinctively mistrust it. You grab Annabeth's hand before you can touch the pulsating petals, and Annabeth whips her head towards you. Her eyes are unfocused. You know this look. You've seen it plenty of times, when you've charmspoken people. But you weren't charmspeaking. Not this time. "What are you doing? Don't touch that!" You sound like an uptight mother, but you don't care. Annabeth pulls her hand away. "Don't fucking tell me what to do."

Oh, it's on.

"Don't be a bitch, okay? That's my job. Don't effing touch random-ass shit in the middle of a random-ass island. I'm not smart like you, but I'm not a dumbass."

"Oh? Since when are you all miss-I'm-so-caring?"

"What the Hades does that have to do with anything? I could be saving your ungrateful ass right now, and you're being a bitch?"

"You know what? I don't have to listen to you." She puts her hand out, and reminding you of the five-year old girl who just got claimed at the Aphrodite cabin, she touches one petal.

Immediately, the ground under you throws you into the air. Vines the size of cobras snake out around your waists and pull you into the gaping mouth of the silver plant. When did it get a mouth? you wonder, but you're too busy trying to breathe and not get pulled into that huge gaping hole that has teeth and dripping saliva and you're sure you're going to die. You claw at the ground, ruining your manicure, but it's no use. Annabeth is in the same situation, and she manages to choke out an, "I'm sorry" but it's too late. You don't even have time to feel smug. Because you're getting pulled in, deeper and deeper and deeper.

You manage to clasp your hands, one final show of rebellion against this death by mutant plant, and are saying farewell to the cruel world, when the grip of the vines suddenly loosens. You can breathe again. You can hear again, and what you're hearing is not pretty.

"_What the Hades were you thinking?"_

Naomi. Looking pissed off and beautiful, one broken manicured hand holding onto what was once snake-sized vines, and is now an innocent looking glowing flower.

"How come it doesn't go crazy when you touch it?"

Annabeth sounds petulant. Naomi looks at the flower, seemingly just realizing that she is holding it. She shrugs. "I don't know."

"I know."

Who? They all look around. Annabeth has her knife drawn and you are ready to charmspeak whoever it is to oblivion. Or slavery.

A little girl, blonde ringlets, white dress, heart-shaped face, big brown eyes, peeks out from behind one of the trees. "I know why it doesnth." She has a lisp. And big brown eyes. And you instinctively relax. Annabeth keeps her knife out, and you think this is rude. You elbow her, sending her a put-the-damn-kinife-away-it's-just-a-little-girl look, but Annabeth ignores you.

"Why not, sweetie?" It doesn't occur to you to wonder why a little girl, she can't be more than five, is out in the middle of a random rainforest. She probably has a good reason.

"Ith becauth she -" she points at Naomi "- ith one of uth."

"One of who, honeypie?"

A different voice answers, higher and screechier. "An islander."

Another little girl, glossy brown curls, sticks her head out from behind another tree. Big blue eyes, but you don't like her as much.

"She's an islander."

"I'm a _what_?"

"An islander. Are you stupid or what? Didn't you hear me the first time? I don't think she can be an islander, Iggy, she's too stupid." Obviously, brown curls has attitude.

"Who's Iggy?"

"Me." Blonde ringlets answers, pointing to herself.

"Her full name's Ignorance but she can't pronounce it so it's just Iggy."

"Ignorance."

"Yup. And I'm Arrogance. My friends call my Arry. You're stupid, so you're not a friend." And she sticks her tongue out at Naomi. You look at each other. You don't know whether to be shocked at this little girl's attitude or accepting.

Annabeth, obviously, chooses to be accepting. "What are you doing here?" she asks, shoving her knife towards her, sneering. (You think that maybe she doesn't like the two girls very much.

Or at all.)

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Annabeth seems to consider this a worthy answer and puts her knife down.

"We live here, okay? With my mom and my sisters."

Ignorance chooses this moment to speak up from the mud puddle she had drifted towards and was making mud pies in, somehow not getting her dress dirty. "Yup. All of uth: Me an' Arry an' Innocence -"

"She died." Arrogance breaks in.

"- an' Florence -"

"She never really did anything."

"- Constance -"

"Her too."

"- an' Prudence."

"Didja call me?" A voice slurs, and a girl around you're age stumbles into the clearing. She's a mess, with tangled knotty hair and dirty, ripped rags of clothes and red eyes and drool stains and a wine bottle in one hand. She might've been beautiful once, but now she just makes you cringe.

"No, no we didn't. Go back to drinking now." Arrogance tells her, pushing her none too gently on the back. Turning back towards you, she says, "Prudence is a nothing now, because nobody likes her, so she just gave up."

Ignorance pipes up. "No! Mummy said she's just in sadness!"

"Well, mummy's wrong, dimwit!" Arrogance retorts.

"I'm telling!"

"Telling who what?" An ethereal voice floats into the clearing, followed by a mesmerizing figure. A middle aged lady, beautiful and blonde and glowing. Her elegant dress flows out from her body and she simply radiates class. "What happened, girls?"

"She said Prudence ith a nothing an' that I'm a dimwit!"

"Arrogance. You know what I told you about telling lies to Ignorance. She believes them."

"Yeah, but I'm telling the truth!" She stomps her feet, looking every bit the whiny six-year old.

"Arrogance. Now, introduce me to our guests."

"Fine. This is my mom. Her name's Wrong. And this is some weird girls and _she's_ an islander." She points at Naomi. You realize that there has been quite a lot of pointing going on.

"Hello, girls." she says warmly. "As my daughter has said, I'm Wrong. It's lovely to meet you. How long are you planning to stay?"

This catches them all off-guard. For a split second, you wonder whether you're actually at an avant-garde spa, and have just hit your head very hard. Naomi breaks the awkward silence. "Uh, I dunno. We kind of just… crashed here."

The lady nods understandingly, as if she hears this all the time. "Of course. You can stay as long as you want, but there is something you have to do first."

Something in the way she says this bothers you, but none of the others seem to notice. "And what's that?" Naomi asks.

"Join us for dinner, of course!"

/

"Now, the dining room is just through there -" she points down the glossy hardwood hallway "- and I'll just go get the dishes out."

Before you can say anything, she disappears through a doorway.

"So."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to - ?"

"Yeah, let's."

And with that profound and deep conversation in mind, you start walking down the hallway.


	5. Chapter 4

**Oh look. An update. You should review, guys. Just a suggestion. Not like I'm holding a gun to your head or nothing. *aims sniper***

**Announcement: This story is now in second person. I have changed the previous chapters.**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

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><p>-Drew-<p>

/

You don't say anything when the wooden floors turn into hospital tiles. Why should you? For all you know, it could be some strange decorating scheme. But when you look up and notice the suddenly white walls and sterile scent in the air, you turn around to comment to the others.

And they aren't there.

So you do what any girl would do. You panic. But only a little bit. You figure that maybe they went through an open door, or something. Feeling a bit smug at your ability to follow directions, you decide to keep walking down the hall, even if it looks like a hospital.

But then you pass a portrait of an old lady, brass plaque hanging underneath that names her Caroline McIntyre, hospital director from 1946 to 1957.

And then your heart thuds and your pulse speeds up and you can hear the blood pounding through your head. But above that, you can hear a little girl, singing. _Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies._

And you realize you've been here before, but that's impossible because you're not in the hospital, you can't be. You're on an _island_, for gods sakes.

_Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

You speed up, nearly running down the hospital hall - but it can't be the hospital hall, it can't, it can't - and almost knock into a passing nurse - when did she get here? - but no matter how fast you go, you can't get away from that little girl singing. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

You look down and you're not wearing ripped jeans anymore, you're wearing pajama shorts and a pink sweatshirt and red pumps and you know where you are. No, you know _when_ you are. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

You're in the worst memory of your life, and you know what's coming next but you can't stop yourself as you run into the Burns ward, as you run through the second door on the right, pushing past a balding middle-aged doctor in a white lab coat and stethoscope.

And then you stop. And stare.

At the girl in the bed with the dead eyes. No, her eyes aren't dead. They aren't alive, either. You stare at the girl with the comatose eyes that aren't dead or alive and sterile white bandages that cover up her crumpled skin and singed hair. You stare at the girl that once was your best friend. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

She looks anywhere but at you - or maybe through you - and you look anywhere but at the bandages covering her neck and arms. Potted plant, so obviously fake, drawn drapes hiding the light from the window, tearstains on her cheeks.

You take a deep breathe. Cross the room. Open the curtains.

The light hits her, and she looks at you. _Hey_, you manage.

_Hey_.

And you take a look at her, your best friend. And decide that she would look very good with bangs, braids, and an overall bohemian look.

And you tell her so.

Her laugh, no matter how weak and broken, gives you hope. Lights a fire in your heart that will never extinguish, not until that bastard pays for it. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

And while you braid her hair, careful of the bandages on her neck, you think that maybe this isn't such a bad memory after all. There's always room for it to get worse, you think.

/

The ceiling starts to crumble and the walls start to shake. A huge chunk of plaster falls down and hits Naomi but she's not there anymore, maybe she never was. The world around you is rocking and you just hold onto the bed frame with your eyes closed, telling yourself that it will be okay, okay?

And when you open your eyes, you aren't in the hospital room anymore, you are in a cave, you think. And the ground is moving and the air is molten and you are terrified. You just want to run, and you're going to when blonde hair hits you in the face and is that Annabeth? running past you. She looks younger, maybe a year younger. She keeps looking back, terrified and strained and sweaty and… remorseful? She doesn't seem to see you, and that scares you the most so you reach out and grab her arm and yank on it.

That gets her attention, and she looks at you, actually looks at you. _Drew?_ she asks.

_Yeah._

_What's - what's going on?_

_I don't know._

_Where are we? I thought - I thought we were running and -_

A thought occurs to you and you ask._ Is this your worst memory?_

_I - how did you know?_

_It was mine too, only it wasn't so bad. Is yours really so bad?_

_I - I don't know. _

_Is it?_

_No. It could be worse._

Again, the ceiling starts to shake and the walls start to crumble and you hold onto her so she doesn't disappear like Naomi. You close your eyes and tell her and yourself that it will be okay, okay?

And when you open them, you're burning.

No, not you. You aren't burning. Not for real. But she is and that infuriates you so you pull her out and slap that son of a bitch for good measure, only you're not sure he felt it because you aren't sure of anything anymore except that Annabeth is beside you and Naomi is burning and you have to save her.

And again, everything crumbles.

So you hold them both tight and tell them that they'll be okay, okay?

You don't close your eyes this time.

/

"Hmm. Most people don't make it through."

Caramel skin and crazy torn clothes and crazy braided hair. Eyes so deep you could get lost in them forever, just searching for the secrets they hold. You don't know what to call her. Crazy hippie lady?

"Welcome, I suppose, to Ogygia."

And that's when you realize you're dealing with something a lot worse than hippies with bad hair.


	6. Chapter 5

**Could it be that I'm finally hitting my stride with this story? Second-to-last chapter, before the epilogue. Yeah, short story. So excited. And also the deadline is tomorrow. When I will be boarding a plane. (Hey, you, yes, _you_ should leave a review. All the _cool_ kids stranded on Ogygia do it.)**

* * *

><p>Chapter 5<p>

* * *

><p>-Naomi-<p>

/

You twist the cord around your fingers, admiring your manicure. Drew's voice crackles on the other side and she's telling you she can't come to the bonfire because she's been planning for this movie marathon for like, a day, and no fire is going to get in the way. You call her a nerd, and she laughs. "Well, der. How am I supposed to get full and luscious eye lashes without memorizing Pirates?"

"Point taken."

"You should ditch."

".."

"Fine. But just so you know, he's calling you. Jack Sparrow, I mean _Captain_ Jack Sparrow is saying _come to daddy_, Nay."

You'll always wish you'd listened.

/

The fire burns and lights up the world. Faces mix together, glowing, lit up like the fourth of July. He pulls you onto his lap and you lean in for a kiss. The fire lights up his face, but he's not just glowing. He's an angel, and he's all yours. He hands you a cup and you really shouldn't take it but you do and later, he'll use that against you. You drink it and he kisses you, sloppily. Perfectly. You kiss him back, just as messily. His hands don't stay still, running through your hair and down your back and wander up your shirt. You pull them away, and he tells you not to be like that. His wandering hands move back and you try to pull away but you're moving through honey and everyone is glowing and his hands don't stop. You tell him to stop but he doesn't, or maybe you didn't say anything. You push away, finally breaking out of the honey and disgust etches itself into his fallen angel features. "Fine, bitch. You want to be like that?"

He pushes you, and you fall.

Into the fire.

/

You are not an angel. You are not glowing.

You are burning.

/

Cool white walls and worried faces and pale blue uniforms whisper sweet _you'll be okay, honey'_s.

/

Crisp white bandages hide your arms and neck and you wish they could hide your memories too.

/

Pale pink sweatshirt and messy black bun and pajama shorts. Drew echoes the pale blue uniforms. _You'll be okay, okay?_ You don't want to believe her, but the fire in her eyes reminds you of the fire that burned you, so you have no choice but to trust her.

/

Dark blue suit says were you or were you not drunk and couldn't you have simply fallen on your own, and that his client was not to blame for your accident? Pale pink sweatshirt, Drew tells him that couldn't he simply be a son of a bitch and that his client bastard should burn in hell?

/

You look in the mirror and recoil at the strange scaly fire lizard you've turned into.

/

And then you're back in the fire, burning burning burning and pale blue uniforms and white bandages and pink sweatshirts and dark blue suits.

/

And the memories mix together, melt like the skin on your arms and neck and everyday, all the time, you burn.

/

You keep burning.

/

You keep burning.

/

You keep burning.

/

And you're burning again, but then you aren't, why aren't you burning? And you notice the arms holding you and the fire eyes and messy black bun and blonde hair and worried gray eyes and you're not burning anymore so you close your eyes and just listen to her telling you that you'll be okay, okay?

She makes it look so easy to be strong, and you have no choice but to believe her.

/

"Hmm. Most people don't make it through."

You can feel her arms stiffen around you but you don't want to look up. You're too tired and you're burned and really, you're not a people person.

"Welcome, I suppose, to Ogygia."

You sigh. Look up.

And are trapped in the caramel toffee eyes of this woman with deep brown braids and flowing torn clothing and she simply emanates nature. But something about her eyes captures you - something deep and knowing, like she's seen too much for her eyes to be normal anymore. Like she knows too much to be normal.

"I am Calypso."

And beside you, Annabeth gasps. "But you can't be. The gods - they _promised_ they would set you free."

She raises her eyebrow. "Did they?"

"I - yes, I was _there_. They _swore_ -"

"Ah, but gods never keep their promises. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"I -"

"Come. Follow me."


	7. Chapter 6

**Oh look. Last chapter. The longest. I am on fire here. Look at me, three chapters in one day. I can't even. Feeling sadder than I thought I would. Epilogue up later. **

**You should review. Seeing as it's the end, and all. *sparkles***

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

* * *

><p>-Naomi-<p>

/

So you follow her through her garden, which you're using as a loose term. It's not so much a garden as a miniature jungle, and you don't see the point of that if you are living in a jungle. It's beautiful, yes, but overgrown. Dirty. Tainted, you could say. Like there's something wrong with it. Something sick. Like it's a living thing and something is attacking it and it's too tired to fight back so it just lies there, wounded.

And then you think that maybe you're identifying too much with plants.

In front of you, Annabeth is still spluttering. "They promised. I don't see why -"

And Calypso whirls around. "Did you think they would release me? They aren't stupid. If they were, they would have faded a long time ago."

"I don't -"

"Of course you don't. No one ever does."

Drew opens her mouth, and you know she's about to tell Calypso not to be a bitch. But something about her tells you that she isn't someone to be bitched at, so you shake your head at Drew. It takes effort, that much if obvious, but she trusts you and doesn't say anything.

Annabeth, on the other hand, does not see any of this. "What do you mean?"

Calypso sighs and you get goose bumps. There was something wrong with her. But what?

"Me. Ogygia. Us. We represent what is wrong with your society. The lonliness, the way evil hids behind beauty. Haven't you noticed the sickness? We were healthy once. But we've been isolated too long. Oppressed too long. Everything wrong with your world has washed up here and tainted us."

"What?"

"I take it you met the charming Wrong and her daughters?"

"Yeah. What a crazy bitch." (Drew, obviously, can not keep her mouth shut for very long.)

"She was the first. Everything Wrong. She's made a home of us, and so we've become the anchor to your society, holding all of the evil. Without evil, you humans wouldn't survive. For without wrong, there cannot be any right. No darkness, no light."

"But the gods, they _swore_ -"

"Since when do gods keep their promises? They aren't going to set free the very thing that's keeping them together. Without Ogygia, they would crumble. Fade."

You think. Something about that statement is off. But you can't figure it out. And all this thinking and burning and crashing has got you tired, and you end up yawning. Calypso sees this and leads you and Annabeth and Drew to a room in a cave that has crystals for a roof and your last thought before you fall asleep is that this is a pretty good way to end such a horrible day.

/

"I swear they can hear us."

"Shut up, Drew."

"No, I'm serious. There are people here and they can hear us."

"Drew. Shut the Hades up."

"Why won't you believe me? Look! There! One of them! Doing the bed!"

"Percy told me about them. Her invisible helpers."

"_So_? Just because they're invisible doesn't mean they aren't people."

"Drew."

"Annabeth. Invisible _people_."

"Ow!"

"What?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Uh-huh."

"Annabeth. _Invisible_ people."

"Shut up alrea - ow!"

"Told you."

"Fine."

"Aaaand you also said that Percy said that Ogygia was pretty. Like, no bugs? Or overgrown ugly plants?"

"Maybe she's redecorating?"

"Or maybe people only see what they want to see, and the truth is far uglier than what they want to see."

"Calypso! I - we - um -"

"Wake your friend up."

"My _name_ is Naomi."

"Awake, I see. Come."

"Wait! Who are the invisible people?"

"Oh, my helpers?"

"Yeah, them."

"Well, boys and evil aren't the only ones to wash up here."

"What do you mean?"

"Women end up here, too, if the fates wish it. How do you think you got here? Females, of course, have a different choice to make."

"What?"

"If you were male, you could choose between staying here or going back. But you are females, so you either choose the island or… you choose Hades."

"That's so sexist."

"That's Ogygia."

"So if you stay here, you turn invisible?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Like I said, sexist."

"Like I said, Ogygia."

/

This conversation gets you thinking again. Ogygia.

/

"So, basically, we either become invisible or die."

"Yes."

"Tough decision."

"Not really, if you think about it."

/

But maybe that is not the only choice.

/

"Ogygia."

"Yes?"

"No, not you. Ogygia. That's what the gods need. Not you, Ogygia."

"…yes, you could say that."

"So if someone else decided to take your place…?"

"I would be free to fade."

"Couldn't you not fade?"

"I'd rather fade. Eternity is tiresome."

"Okay, but only if someone chose to take your place?"

"Naomi - you aren't - what are you saying?"

"Drew. I don't want you to die."

"Naomi, don't be a dumbass."

"Too late. I was born that way."

/

"So you are choosing to take my place?" She asks, suddenly glowing. There's no fire, she's glowing from within. And you want that. You don't want a fire to light you up. You want your own glow, and this is the only way you'll find that.

"Yes."

/

_No, no you can't_, she screams. _Too late_, you want to scream back. She tries to pull you back but Annabeth holds her back because she knows that this is your choice and she respects that and you respect her for respecting you.

/

She holds out her hand and you take it. And you can feel all of her eternities flowing into you and you aren't a fire lizard anymore, you are you and you are glowing and she is fading and you are powerful and she is weak and you are happy and she is happy.

/

And then you are immortal and there's nothing left but a silent island and a broken friendship.

/

(And you'll wonder, some eternities later, if it was worth it.)


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

><p>You're enraged.<p>

How could she? How could she leave _you_, her best friend, for a life as an immortal creepy hippie?

How could she do this?

/

You're stunned.

It was all so unexpected, you were so unprepared. Even you, strategist that you are, could not have planned for what had happened.

There are some things even _you_ can't do anything about.

/

You're busy.

So, so busy. You have so much to do. Allegiances to be won. Visibility spells to be found. Sicknesses to be healed. Monsters to kill.

An island to tame.

But you'll make time. You've always been able to. You tell yourself that soon you'll have nothing but time on your hands. And then you'll contact her. She won't be mad forever.

Of course, you could always be wrong. And you have forever to find out if you are.

/

The camp is quiet these days. The crisp cold weather mutes everything, making the crackle of the leaves underfoot even louder. From far away, the camp looks perfect. Picturesque. But look closer and you'll feel the tension in the air. Listen harder and you'll hear secrets never spoken out loud.

But if you can ignore the outbreak of fascism in the Aphrodite cabin, or the way Annabeth sometimes breaks off midsentence and stares out the window, if you can ignore the mutterings and the meaningful looks, you might find yourself happy.

But sometimes, you'll find yourself looking out at the horizon. And sometimes, you'll swear you can see something other than the sea. A constant darkness. An island, maybe, but you can't really tell. It's hidden, almost invisible, behind the mist.

* * *

><p><strong>And cut! That's a wrap, folks. Please excuse me while I go feel sentimental and relieved. <strong>

**If you've been here since the beginning, I love you and I think you are adorable. If you've only just arrived at this party, I adore you and I think you are lovely. And if you randomly discover this while bored on the computer months or even years from now, I think you are adorable and lovely but I do not adore or love you. Yet. So you know, leave a review and such.**

**Also, as this is around the holidays. Merry whatever and happy new years. **

**Goodbye, first multichapter story of mine.**

***blows kiss* **


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